My Own Prison
by procol harum
Summary: He hadn't wanted to believe it, still hadn't when he had seen his body -- but this man's confession of Tom's final words had brought everything barreling into focus quickly.


**Title:** My Own Prison

**Characters/Pairing:** Doug Penhall, Tom Hanson, Grant Turner, prisoner dudes – Doug/Tom

**Rating:** T

**Warnings:** mentions of violence, kinda graphic, character death (rated T to be safe)

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the fictional character of Grant Turner, a name I came up with up on a whim, so if you exist, well, don't sue me please, I only have that penny on my bathroom floor.

**Summary: **He hadn't wanted to believe it, still hadn't when he had seen his body -- but this man's confession of Tom's final words had brought everything barreling into focus quickly.

**A/N:** Inspired by, while listening to, My Own Prison by Creed, and then it kinda wrote itself... and it's pretty damn angsty, then kinda hurt/comfort gushyness at the end for Doug...

--

Tom backed himself against the wall, hoping that whatever his back came into contact with would envelop him. That way he would disappear, forever be gone from this prison and never have to deal with the men, the demons, easily gaining in on him, entrapping him in the small stall. He knew that this was it, though, and that within minutes he would be forced to endure the torture these men, these demons, would enforce upon him. He only hoped that if they ended up killing him that Doug wouldn't have to see his body, that nobody he loved would. He doubted they were going to kill him, though, because this wasn't the first time they had trapped them in this room. And they knew that once they broke him he would be willing to succumb to any further punishment without second thought. Tom knew this, too, because he felt himself slowly crumbling, and right now he didn't even want to fight back. He just wanted it to happen so that it would finally be done and over with. At least, for that day it would. But keeping him alive was the one thing they would want to do, because with him dead they would no longer have a new fish to play with it. But Tom could still hope, though, because the one thing he didn't want to do was be alive after the attack and be subjected to it again the next time. If he was dead then at least he could finally be in peace.

When they found the body, the guards didn't have to look twice to know who it was. The entire time Tom Hanson had been there, there had been talk about getting him, about _having_ him. Because Tom had been the new fish, the _pretty _fish, and everybody knew what happened to them. Except they were rarely killed while the prisoners played their games with them. Sure, they would end up in the infirmary for a few days, some not even that long, but only twice before had any been killed – and that was because they had pissed off the wrong guy. Tom was the third. The story that all the prisoners involved were telling, though, was that Tom had begged them to kill him, to just end it. Because they had finally broken the young man, broken him down so much that he hadn't wanted to live to be broken down anymore. It was the leader of the group who had smacked him, told him to shut his pretty mouth because no amount of begging would help him. Because the new fish belonged to them and he would do no good to them if he were dead. So why had he been killed? It had been an accident. Sort of. They had gone too far with the beating, cracking his skull against the floor too hard, pounding into his face too hard, and Tom Hanson had died of blood loss. Too much blood had been drained out of his body, most of it coming from a large gash in his forehead, and by the time the guards had gotten to him, the stall was a mess. The young officer had been found naked, lying on his stomach in a puddle of red slowly draining into the sewers below. And as that blood drained, so had Hanson's life. Maybe if the guards had been there five minutes earlier they could have saved him, could have stopped the bleeding. But they were too late and Tom had died minutes after they had gotten there. The older of the two guards, Grant Turner, had held the younger man in his arms while he had given his last breath, having been one of the only guards in the place to have cared for the man. He had been older and had felt sorry for Hanson, having been on night shift many nights, easily hearing the voices of his tormentors. Which was why he was glad to have been one of the men to have found Tom, to have been there in his dying moment -- because if he hadn't, then who would have?

Doug wished he could have been. He had loved Tom and his heart felt like it had been torn in two when he had heard the news. He had left work early and gone straight to the prison, demanding to see Hanson's body. He had yelled and cursed and flashed his badge and was finally allowed to see Tom. And seeing him had done nothing to fix his heart, if anything it had made it worse, pushing it apart so badly that he knew it would never fully be fixed again. He hadn't cried, though. In the entire time after hearing that Tom had died, Doug had not cried. He knew he should, hell, he had wanted to, but he found that he just couldn't. At least, he hadn't, not until Grant Turner talked to him.

"You were Tom's friend?"

Doug turned at the voice, glad to be able to focus his attention on something other than Tom's broken body. "Yeah, his best friend. Boyfriend, actually," he added, smiling weakly. He didn't care what people thought of him, not now. Not now that Tom was dead. Because he loved Tom and he didn't care who knew it.

"Then you must be Doug," Grant replied, resting a hand on Doug's shoulder gently. His voice was calm and low, weary in his old age. "He said something, before he died."

"You-you were with him?" Doug mumbled uneasily, heart wrenching. "What'd he say?"

"To tell you that he was sorry. And that he loved you."

Doug had finally broken then, tears quickly escaping and trailing wet splotches down his cheeks. Because Tom was dead. He hadn't wanted to believe it, still hadn't when he had seen his body -- but this man's confession of Tom's final words had brought everything barreling into focus quickly, tearing those last few pieces of his heart and breaking it completely.

Because Tom Hanson _was _dead.


End file.
